


back in the pulse

by Lake (beyond_belief)



Category: The Martian (2015)
Genre: Caretaking, Fic Exchange, Hurt/Comfort, Multi, Spanking, Spanking and aftercare
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-24
Updated: 2020-05-24
Packaged: 2021-03-01 20:13:36
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,531
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23892874
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/beyond_belief/pseuds/Lake
Summary: Mark can't sleep. He needs... something.
Relationships: Chris Beck/Beth Johanssen/Mark Watney
Comments: 2
Kudos: 59
Collections: Hurt Comfort Exchange 2020





	back in the pulse

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Rina (rinadoll)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/rinadoll/gifts).



> For Rinadoll, who in the middle of a bunch of soft prompts had "spanking and aftercare?", and even though I'd planned on writing one of those soft prompts I could not stop thinking about Mark getting spanked.

Mark is always grateful that Beth and Chris are there, on those nights he wakes up gasping for breath, in a cold sweat or with a remembered hunger pinching at his belly. Grateful, and slightly ashamed: he's woken them from their own needed - and required - sleep, and _fuck_ , he should be past feeling like he wants to scream when it's too dark in the crew quarters.

"Hey, you're okay," Chris mumbles, as he turns over next to Mark and drapes his arm over Mark's chest. On his other side, Beth must touch the lighting control, because the room brightens just slightly. Enough that Mark can see: Chris, immediately next to him, skin-to-skin ( _no_ , Mark's inner monologue supplies, _you're both wearing pajamas_ ) - and Beth, hovering over Chris' shoulder, her expression concerned. 

"You're okay," Chris says again, and Mark repeats, "I'm okay," because this is their tried-and-true method to bring his heart rate back down, to ease the ache in his lungs. Beth reaches out and cups his cheek. "You're okay," she whispers, and Mark nods, repeats it again.

The Hermes continues on the path to Earth, with barely a shiver. Mark knows it's fine, logically. Intellectually. That the cool, mostly white interior is designed to be soothing. He still misses - illogically - the sandstorms whipping against the Hab, the sound of the Rover's wheels over Mars' surface. Sounds that previously spiked anxiety directly up into his heart. It doesn't make sense.

"It doesn't have to make sense," Chris murmurs. 

Mark swallows hard against the lump in his throat, and nods. He feels Beth's hand in his too-long hair. _It's okay_ , he tells himself, _it's okay_.

"I'm sorry," he says, when it's not enough. _Are you really?_ his inner monologue asks. Sometimes the voice is so taunting, Mark hates it. All those days of only himself to talk to, frustration made him mean. 

Unease plucks at his stomach. "I should be past this," he whispers.

"No," Beth whispers just as quickly. "Whatever you need."

Mark shudders. "Can you just - I feel so - make me feel something different than this. Please."

"We got you," Chris says, and his voice is firm. "What do you need - Pleasure? Something painful? Something sharp? Or soft?"

His head spins at the sheer number of choices. A hand settles over his face, over his eyes. He recognizes the weight and size of it as Beck's. He's thankful; it means he doesn't have to look at anyone as he says, "Something painful. Just a little."

"We can do that," Beth assures him. An arm slides underneath Mark - Chris' arm - and then he's being rolled slightly, repositioned so that he's lying halfway on top of Chris' body. Warm fingertips slide under the waistband of his sleep pants - Beth's fingertips - and then her hands lever them downwards. Just enough to expose his ass to the air, to their eyes. 

"Well, I'm glad there's no cameras in here," he murmurs, and Chris and Beth both laugh. 

He feels Chris' hand slide down his back and cup his buttock, then squeeze. "What's the verdict, Doc?" Beth asks. Mark feels the weight of her settle to the left of his legs, next to his calves.

Beck hums, and squeezes again before he says, "In my professional medical opinion, Mark's put enough meat back on his bones for what we're about to do."

Mark shivers. His face is burning. "Meat, huh?"

Chris' hand slides further down, stroking the returning muscle of Mark's thigh, then travels back up, where he pinches at Mark's waist. "Could put on a little more."

"Are we spanking Mark or raiding the canteen?" Beth asks. His head spins. "Pick one, because I'm not staying awake for both." 

She flicks her blunt fingernails lightly against his bare skin, and he twitches hard. "Relax," Chris whispers. "Just relax against me. Ready?"

Mark takes a deep breath, then exhales out all the tension, consciously relaxing his muscles and leaving him draped over Chris. "Good," Chris says, and slides a hand up into Mark's hair. 

The first blow is a surprise even though he knows it's going to happen. It's not particularly hard or stinging, but he can feel the blood rising to the surface of his skin, along with rushing to his groin. The next one lands in the same place, and this time it stings. "Johanssen," he says. His voice sounds strange to his own ears. "Did you learn this from some dominatrix movie? Because they definitely didn't teach it in astronaut school."

"I have an extensive cinematic education," she answers, the words crisp. 

Mark laughs at that, feels Beck laughing, too. He turns his head slightly and Chris kisses him - nothing hurried, the same gentleness he knows they've been practicing since Mark was ready for human touch again. Beth smacks him again and he gasps into Chris' mouth. Heat prickles all along his skin. "Yes," he hears Chris say, an answer to something Mark has missed.

Beth strokes his thighs until Mark relaxes again (except for the erection he's been doing his best to ignore until this moment; it's trapped by the waistband of his pants, pressed against Beck's leg), muscles loosening. Then she hits him six times in rapid succession; Mark counts, he can't _not_ count. Three times on each cheek. Hard enough that the sound of his own breath in his ears drowns out everything else. He squirms against Chris, who presses teeth to his neck. Mark groans. 

"Quietly," Beth whispers.

The space he's in seems to narrow down to a very few things: the solid warmth of Chris beneath him, the press of Beth's body where their legs are touching, and her palm resting on his thigh. His erection throbs and Mark realizes he's moving his hips slightly, and rubbing against Chris. "Okay, Mark?" Beth asks. She trails fingertips over the back of his neck. 

"Yes."

"You're not too red." She says it in a matter-of-fact voice. "Would you like a few more?"

"Yes." His breath hitches, already anticipating the all-consuming burn of it. 

Chris pets his hair. "Just a couple," he says to Beth, then kisses Mark's hot cheek. "I think we've got a few weeks of full meals and more exercise to go before Mark's in shape to really take it."

"I'll make them count, then," Beth says sweetly. Mark registers her leaning forward before her hair brushes his neck, making him tremble. She presses a soft kiss beneath his ear. "Ready?"

"Please."

Beth doesn't wait, just starts. Mark thought he was prepared. Mark thought _a few more_ meant four, or six. At seven, he's gasping against Chris' neck, hips moving uncontrollably, on the edge of orgasm. Every inch of his body feels hot and flushed. At eight, he flinches. Chris cradles his face with warm, comforting hands. His fingertips press just enough into Mark's cheeks that Mark starts to feel steady again.

No more blows land. Instead, he feels Beth's fingers on his back, running lightly from his neck to the bottom of his ribcage and up again. Chris slides a hand down his chest, his stomach, and finally beneath the waistband of Mark's pants. Three firm strokes is all it takes for him to go over the edge, brightness curling in on his mind. 

"Thanks," he whispers, once he can speak, and not just suck in air against Chris' shoulder. 

Beth kisses the back of his neck, then the side if it, the place where his pulse is still pounding. "Think you can sleep now?"

"I think so." 

"I'm going to move you, so I can clean up," Chris warns, and Mark nods before he's tipped to the side, onto a cooler part of the bed. Chris slides away, and Beth settles into his spot. 

She presses her lips to Mark's still hot cheek, then runs her fingers through his hair. "You okay? Does it hurt?"

Mark can feel the echo of her hand, but there's no pain. "I'm good," he yawns, then shivers as Beck moves the blankets, then his pants, and runs something damp over Mark's cock. "I don't think I can get it up again, don't worry," he mutters, and hears Chris and Beth both laugh. 

He leans his head on Beth's shoulder as she gets him covered up again, suddenly so tired that the edges of the room seem fuzzy, and the bed is a soft cocoon. One which is briefly too cool, as Chris moves the sheet to slide back in on Mark's other side. "All right there, Mark?" he asks, and runs a hand over Mark's ass.

Mark shudders. Chris kisses the back of his neck. "Time for everyone to get some sleep - doctor's orders," he says. The shape of him leans over both Mark and Beth to touch the lighting controls. The room darkens again, and this time, Mark is much less bothered by it.

"Mark, you can pay us back tomorrow," Beth adds, tightening her arm around Mark's waist and tucking her legs closely against his. "I still have nailpolish left, you can do my toes for me."

A simple, meditative task - the kind Mark has liked the most in recovery. "Only if you do mine," he whispers. 

"Deal."


End file.
